


Stateless

by ColiOli (orphan_account), youdbefuntomurder



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, But Rick does, Completed, Daryl doesnt want to talk about it, Drama, Kink Meme, M/M, Two-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 01:22:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1879698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ColiOli, https://archiveofourown.org/users/youdbefuntomurder/pseuds/youdbefuntomurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a kink meme challenge. (Full challenge inside)</p><p>Daryl and Rick need to take small steps towards intimacy but Rick just wants to know the other man on a deeper level. He didn't realize when he asked about those scars that he wouldn't be able fix a broken past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The time-line of this is somewhat scattered but all of the events take place at the prison. 
> 
> Challenge: It took Rick a long time to gain Daryl's trust, but even then - Daryl would only consent to quickies that involved minimal nudity. Rick has glimpsed Daryl's scars when he's been injured, changing, or quickly bathing - he's pretty sure that whatever events caused them are also responsible for Daryl's aversion to nudity/intimacy. He finally gets Daryl comfortably drunk enough to hopefully get him naked and over his hangup, Daryl responds to Rick's attempts to strip him by coming clean about why he hasn't wanted to get naked: besides feeling uncomfortably exposed, he had been avoiding explaining his worst scars by not letting Rick get a close enough look at them to ask. He agrees to give Rick the full story behind each group of scars, and take more off during sex in the future, but ONLY IF Rick promises to never make him talk about them again. Being asked about the scars forces him to relive the trauma; he was protecting them both from the disaster that would have led to if Rick were to ask during a sexually charged moment.
> 
> With difficulty and more booze, Daryl confesses that he was raped repeatedly throughout his young life (~15-22). Circumstances of the rapes up to author - could be multiple perpetrators over the course of a few years or just one. Could be that his father blamed him and beat him after each assault - maybe it was his father that raped him and blamed him for seducing him, or Merle on another drug binge, or Merle's less savory acquaintances/customers. (could tie in with some of the awful stuff the hallucination!Merle said to Daryl in Chuppacabra) 
> 
> Newly scarred by what he heard, Rick can't discuss it further with Daryl and he can't talk it out with anyone else in their camp without violating Daryl's privacy. He's careful not to treat Daryl differently and tries to put it out of his mind; Daryl is pretty well adjusted all things considered, so he can't even pull the 'talking helps with healing' card. Problem is, he's having trouble coping with the new information: each time they get together for sex, Rick sees or feels the scars and he can't stop imaging the rapes and abuse in horrifically vivid detail - as if in a flashback.
> 
> youdbefuntomurder helped create, edit and inspire the second half of this story, so any and all mistakes are completely mine in chapter 1.

They say scars can only run skin-deep. As if the scar left on your body leaves no amount of shame, guilt, memories, or hurt by what left them there. Daryl tries to tell himself that. In fact, he convinced himself of it to the point that when he looks at himself from the back in the mirror, he doesn’t even see them. He doesn’t think about them as his fingertips brush over one, and when he starts to ponder the feel of the misaligned surface it’s like his mind shuts the thought off and diverts his attention elsewhere.

It’s like his mind knows he can’t handle the thought of them being there, so it protects him.

When Daryl first knew without a doubt of Rick’s feelings, they had kissed out in the woods when securing the perimeter. He never thought it’d go so far that they’d find times alone together, and soon it led to touching and kissing in places that Daryl had first felt reticent about. But at the end of it all, he pushed away any resentment he felt for being gay, because in all honesty he had never felt the same about anyone else.

It could have been Rick’s fearlessness, or his willingness to put everyone first. His love for his own children attracted Daryl simply because he never witnessed a love so pure. 

But when Rick starts taking off Darryl’s shirt one evening in the guard tower, Daryl pushes his hands down and tells Rick it’s too cold. He knew Rick knew it was bullshit. But he didn’t care because the thought of telling Rick the truth was too much to stand. But his tactics run short over time and Rick presses to see him naked. To touch him –intimately, like lovers. 

Daryl never meant things to go so far. 

Rick’s hand remains still under his shirt placed softly on top his sternum, feeling the way he breathes in and out. He wants to feel more of Daryl, but each time his hand slithers somewhere near his back, Daryl will stop him and hold his hand in place. 

“Don’t,” he warns when Rick tries to reach his hands around to Daryl’s back.

“Why?” He asks and kisses Daryl on the lips. When Daryl doesn’t kiss him back Rick pulls away and his vision is filled with the man’s bright blue eyes staring back at him.

“I never let anyone see.” 

Rick has seen the scars before. He once felt inclined to gaze at them with wonder and fascination of what could cause a display of wounds spread across one’s body in a series of marked stories. But he knows whatever dismayed story lay dormant in Daryl’s mind is the same dismay that caused him to be a recluse among their human species. He feels anger towards the cruel hands which could lay such harm to another being, but even more, he feels condolence for the man who feels shamed by them. 

Hershel has seen the scars. But it was at the same time as Rick, only because he comes and goes as he pleases and when one of them is sick or injured, it was his job as leader to check-in on his team. He first saw the scars back at the farm when Hershel bandaged Daryl when he had returned to the group thrown from a horse no one knew had a name unveiling its bad habit. Hershel and Rick exchanged a quick look between each other, but that was all which was ever acknowledged between the two who held onto Daryl’s secret.

“You know, I never been with someone like you before.” Rick says when they stand guard in the tower. 

“Hows that?” Daryl asks. He’s half interested in Rick’s remark, letting himself raise the binoculars and gaze out into the night. When Rick doesn’t respond, Daryl turns around and looks at the man staring at him.

He takes a moment to hold direct eye contact, wanting Daryl to know the gravity of how he would describe him. 

“Reserved.” 

The closest he felt to those scars was when he and Daryl lay in the dark, Rick’s bare chest pressed to Daryl’s side as his hands trace over Daryl’s body trying to memorize every curve, feel or imperfection upon skin. He would have learnt each scar if Daryl had been willing to let his fingers graze along his spine, but when Daryl turned away Rick had known with an unspoken agreement that he could touch wherever he wanted, but Daryl’s back was off limits. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t respect the man’s privacy –what little they had these days, but it felt unfair to give all of himself to Daryl with withheld emotions in return. He understood Daryl was damaged from whatever past he kept tucked away only in his own mind, but it didn’t feel like the real bond he craved when Daryl was only willing to give half of himself. 

Rick wanted all of Daryl. 

And Daryl already had all of Rick. 

It was baby steps that led to Daryl allowing Rick to touch him in ways which only lovers do. The first time he had even got his hand inside Daryl’s pants, it was obvious that it was an internal struggle for Daryl to allow the other man take claim over what he wanted as his. He fought back giving himself to Rick, but when Rick did that thing with his hand and the way he made Daryl kiss him instead of talk back, Daryl couldn’t resist letting the man continue. Rick had been patient for months, so when Daryl squirmed underneath him in pleasure but tried to push him off, Rick held him down by placing his palm on Daryl’s stomach, and apparently Daryl must have wanted it because that’s all it took. And when he came, he came with his hand wrapped in a fistful of Rick’s hair, his face pressed into that crook of Rick’s neck which made Rick feel powerful in the sense that only he could make Daryl act that way. 

The man so tense and hidden on the outside, crumbled into a ball of fit and orgasm in Rick’s arms each time they had watch together. 

The first time they had sex, he had to calm Daryl from hyperventilating breaths and back into a normal state. It was as if every internal demon wanted Daryl to suffer at the hands of a man who wanted everything to just have all of him. 

_“Hey, it’s ok.”_ He stopped to encourage, before pulling away. _“Daryl, every time we try something new it’s as if I’m torturing you. Are you even sure you want this?”_ Part of him ached for the possibility of being turned away, but this was an easy out for Daryl if he didn’t want to go through with it. But he did. 

And so they made love in the guard tower, probably in the same spot Glenn and Maggie had done countless times before them. But they had it so easy. 

And in many ways more than one, Rick envied them time and time again. 

When he works in the garden as his mind is able to drift away from reality and assort his problems in an array of plans and solutions. He can only then let himself wonder about why the man curls away from even the most sincere of touch. He discerns the reason Daryl cowers from any sort of affection or bond with anyone is due to the encounters he dealt with at a young age when conditioning lifetime habits is but a simple thing to do when a child is faced with repetitive consequences. Obviously the consequences Daryl faced were those that taught pain from the hands of those who were supposed to love him, which is why he won’t allow himself to be loved. He doesn’t know how to act around affection or kindness after being raised around hurt and hardness by the people who should have taught him the gentles of the world. 

So naturally, when Rick, Carol, Beth, Maggie or anyone tries to show him gratitude or affection of any sorts, Daryl can’t react in the normal way. And eventually they stop trying. It’s not that they didn’t care –because anyone would be damned if they saw a group that cared more for each other, but the group accepted Daryl as the lone wolf and gave him his space. And that’s what Rick did as well until they crossed that line when the world –so fucked to shit, didn’t let them distinguish between man or woman. 

It had first started when they’d take runs together. There were nights when Glenn, Rick and Daryl found themselves having to stay overnight in a building and they sure as hell were determined to not let themselves freeze to death. Three men would huddle under cardboard in a corner while the snow outside hid their tracks. But Glenn had Maggie, so as he drifted to sleep he dreamt thoughts of her sweet, soft and warm skin while Rick would still shiver and that’s when Daryl would press himself into Rick to try and supply his own body heat. 

It started so small.

But soon they were taking smoke breaks together when Rick never had before. Just little things, but they’d start opening holes of themselves into each other as if wanting so badly to crave the bond of someone else willing to fill those empty spots. 

But when things got intimate, Daryl would pull away as if they were just fuck buddies all along. 

But Rick knew better, because it always came down to those damn scars Daryl was hiding from the world. A world now uglier than anything he thought he had on himself. 

_“Daryl, I saw your scars a long time ago. There’s no need to feel ashamed,_ ” he’d say when they’d have the tower to themselves. It’s early in the morning, and the new day touches their tired eyes, but Rick’s not leaving until he says what he needs Daryl to understand.

Daryl feels the heat growing in his cheeks and the way acid seems more prominent in his stomach. He diverts the conversation by looking away.

 _“Please,”_ his hand retrieves Daryl’s averted gaze and forces him to look at him. _“I ain’t ever going to judge you.”_

He pulls away from the grip Rick has on him. _“I ain’t afraid of you judgin’ me.”_ Turning away and looking out the window to the fields of grotesque and dead, he says, _“It’s the re-livin’ those stories that I can’t do. They’s just as ugly as them fuckers outside.”_

_“I’m here for you-“_

Daryl turns to face him, the sunrise behind him blinding Rick from seeing Daryl’s features, _“But what will happen when you’re not? Cause’ I’ll be damned if I’m gonna’ open those memories again and have to deal with them by myself.”_

He doesn’t need to ask why Daryl would think that, but he doesn’t know which of the two reasons Daryl means by it. No matter what, he’ll eventually die. His hope is Carl and Judith will live long enough to find somewhere safe and raise a family. His own death though, is imminent. The other reason Daryl could mean is that Rick would leave him for someone else, which seems ridiculous to think when their options are slim –but it comes from someone who has never known loyalty except from his own hands. 

But Rick is determined he won’t Daryl hide from him. 

That night when they have watch again, he takes with him the whiskey Glenn had been reluctant to trade but did with selfless reasons at hand. He figures if he can get Daryl to relax enough, then he might just be an open book willing to at least comply. 

“Look,” he pulls from his overnight bag a full bottle of whiskey. “I traded it with Glenn for a disk player I found. ‘Guess Maggie’s been wanting something for Beth’s “estimated birthday”.” The group doesn’t call them just ‘birthdays’ anymore. 

They pass the bottle back and forth several times. Daryl takes a big swig before coughing into a full-on banter that leaves him curled over but with a cheeky grin all the same. Rick places his hand on Daryl’s back to soothe the liquid down his burning throat, but when he feels Daryl pull away he also feels part of his heart ache with longing to touch him in the places that hide his secrets. He’d be lying if he didn’t try –probably more than he should. 

They finish half the bottle and Rick feels his vertigo swarming in warmth and glow, so it’s safe for him to assume that Daryl feels the same plus by the way he smiles more often than normal. 

“Shit. We should do somethin’,”

Rick laughs. “We’re supposed to be on watch.”

“Yeah, but somethin’ worth making them laugh.” 

“Like what?”

“Fuck, man. I don’t know.” Daryl rocks imbalanced and grins as his eyes glint with trouble. “We should swap all their weapons so when they wake up in the mornin’ they have to figure out who has whose.”

“Haha, could you imagine Michonne trying to figure out who has hers katana?”

“It’d only be fittin’ to give it to the Asian.” They both break out in a fit of childish snickers at their mischievous plan which both know they won’t actually commit. But they entertain the thought, and Rick can’t help but enjoy the side of Daryl he’s never seen before. 

He kisses Daryl on the lips when he quirks a smile in the corner of his lips that Rick can’t help but want to capture for himself. Daryl giggles when Rick clumsily falls over on-top him. 

Rick helps Daryl adjust when he lands awkwardly against the wall. He feels his dick pressed against Daryl’s hip and he can’t help himself when it fills with arousal. Kissing the man under him feels like bliss especially added with the taste of old tobacco and hard liqour, and it’s so much simpler to read the signals that Daryl gives him than any other women he’d been with before. He’s not scared to hurt Daryl, and Daryl’s not scared to hurt Rick. 

Rick brushes the hair back from Daryl’s head and kisses him, Daryl’s mouth opening to groan out loud –filling the small room with echoes that bounce back and into Rick’s ears where he feels his blood pulse at such a harmony. 

He has both their clothes off –minus the shirt of Daryl’s before he finds himself trying to strip that too. But those hands, still covered in dirt like they always are, find Rick’s hands and practically beg them not to. But Rick thinks that the drinks will help Daryl, so he’s reluctant to give up then.

But when Daryl has to stop his hands short several times of lifting his shirt from his back, he pulls away from the man atop him.

“The hell ya doin’?” 

He sits up and sighs from frustration. He doesn’t mean to show it –and by the way Daryl looks away it was probably the wrong thing to do. “I just don’t want you to hide from me anymore. I- I need all of you Daryl. There ain’t a damn thing on you that ain’t more ugly than what we see every day.” 

Daryl bites his cheek and he swears he can taste it bleed. He face screws up in a distortion of battle with himself, but after a moment he places his hand over Rick’s –a simple gesture to let him know that he doesn’t mean to push him away in the moment. 

“It ain’ easy,” He admits.

“I know,” Rick breathes. 

Daryl reaches for the bottle of whiskey which could never feel to hold enough liquor inside for him to describe the details of his life which he has forgotten for several years. He chugs as much as he can get down and places the cap back on but does not set the bottle down. In his grip he twists the neck of the bottle as if can loosen the top right off. 

“Daryl. Where did you go?” Rick asks trying to find the eyes that diverted from him.

Daryl shakes his head slightly, eyes shut tight. He looks at concerned eyes. The lantern behind them casts a shadow on Ricks features. 

“Look,” he whispers after a moment. “I… I tell you this one time. I can’t talk about it ever again.” 

“Ok. I won’t ask you again.” Rick pauses, but continues, “You have to let me see you. Let me touch you how I want to –as long as its ok, but you have to try. And no more hiding.”

“Best not tell anyone ‘bout them,” Daryl warns, his voice curling away from the tone he shares with only Rick and back to the normal threat. 

“This is just between us. Your secrets are safe with me.” 

Daryl tenses his whole body but nods his head and when he stands Rick follows suit. In front of him Daryl slowly removes his shirt and tosses it aside –never once looking away from Rick. 

“I don’t…” he stops and Rick hasn’t ever seen Daryl come close to crying before, “I didn’ want you to see em’. I can’t stand you lookin and knowin’ all at once.” Two tears fall from his eyes and Rick has him in his arms before he knows what he did. Daryl doesn’t cry –doesn’t shake with convulsions of uncontrollable sobs, and so Rick loosens his grip and offers Daryl another shot of whiskey which he takes. 

“I seen em’ before. There’s nothing new to them that isn’t already in my memory.” 

“I was 20 when I got the first one. It’s the one on my right shoulder blade, and I swear I can still feel it sometimes if I get thinkin’ on it.” He sighs, preparing himself, and partially preparing Rick for what he has to say. “I was raped multiple times when I was in my 20’s. I don’ like to call it that, but that is what it was Rick. I didn’ want to tell you when we was foolin’ around, because I knew you and I couldn’ handle somethin’ like that when we was in the moment. I wanted to tell you time and time again, but it jus’ never felt right at the time.” 

Rick’s not even sure he hears what Daryl said beyond the word which raises his temperature at just saying it. 

“They all started out that way. Each time… he’d place a cut on my body. And each time I swear it hurt fuckin’ less cause I got so damned used to it. But the scars… I swear they still hurt because I can remember what happened each time I see em’.”

“This one…” He directs his hand to the mid-section of his back inviting Rick to look for himself.

Instead, Rick takes two slow steps forward and even though Daryl’s eyes don’t look back at him, he kisses Daryl on the lips to try and bring him back to what they have. What _they_ have. He isn’t that man before, and he doesn’t want Daryl to think that this story is all that is important right now. And when he feels that spark ignite in his partner, he gently pulls away and stands behind Daryl to gaze down upon him. He kisses him on the back of the neck and holds his lips there, his hands venture to his shoulders and slowly trace downwards before wrapping themselves around his mid-section. The contact –simple contact of having his chest pressed against the back of Daryl is the closest he’s ever felt to him. 

It would normally turn him on, but in the moment he just lets himself experience it. 

“The one in the middle… that one I got when I fought back once. But he wasn’ the first one to leave them there. When I was a kid –fuck Rick I was so young… my father would scar me where he didn’ have Merle to do that to anymore. He was a sick bastard, just letting his hate reflect in his own children.”

“I met this man when I moved out. He fucked me at first, and that’s when I told him my past. But then he jus’ got more fuckin’ sick in the head and he had this drinking problem. That’s when he would fuck me and I swear I coulda’ fought back… but I had this fucked up thought in my head that it wasn’ wrong, ya know? And so I let him at first. It hurt so fuckin’ bad, and I don’ know why I let him at first. But then I jus’ didn’ want them there anymore, and when I fought back he got this sorta sick twist from it and it jus’ turned into a big game for him. Then he’d fuckin’ cut deeper and deeper, and sometimes I’d wish he’d do it so deep I’d bleed to death later in the woods.” 

“But you are stronger than that.” 

“I really wish I had sometimes. That was until I met you guys. You guys took so much of those memories away. Only person before who could do that for me was Merle.” 

“Rick, I ain’ ever told anyone this before except for the man that did it to me who put more on me. I honestly didn’ think I’d live long enough to tell you.” 

His grip tightens around Daryl’s shivering frame. “I’m glad you did.”

“Merle had to of known. He acts like he didn’t, but I think he just pretended not to know what was goin’ on. He might have thought I was willingly screwin’ him, because it wasn’t long after he started calling me “Darleana”. You know, just to push my buttons.” 

They don’t say much after that, and they’d probably be almost as bad as Maggie and Glenn when they hardly look out the windows that night. Instead, they lay on the makeshift bed that’s always there and lay in the light of the lanterns glow this time. In each other’s arms they hold each other naked and Rick lets himself feel Daryl’s back while Daryl holds onto him –occasionally digging his nails back into Rick when a scar attached to horrible memories is grazed upon. 

If Rick had known any better, he probably wouldn’t have pressed to know when Daryl declined time and time again. Had he known that his dreams night after night would consume with nightmares of cuts flowing of blood down the back of his lover, then he may not have wanted to know. But those dreams developed into worse images than what he’d ever seen when he begged the man not to hurt Daryl anymore only for the man to cut in deeper each time he cried. Maybe if he knew it would begin to change the way he looked at Daryl after that night, then Rick may have let it go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tumblr](http://justswimwiththewhales.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I can't even begin to thank youdbefuntomurder enough for working with me on completing this fic. She is incredibly wonderful to work with and I enjoyed collaborating the second part of this story with her. A lot of this is in part of her and without her input the second part of this story would not be what it is. I hope you guys enjoy because we spent a lot of time working on this.

Neglected grass rustles around sturdy boots. The air tosses and pushes the grass down at an angle from the wind falling from surrounding hills. The gust of air shakes the top of trees held strong by firm earth. Behind the mountains the sky was almost black where a rumbling could closely be heard. Rick wipes the line of sweat and dirt from his brow and throws the spade of his shovel into the loose earth. His son next to him digs in the dirt and pulls from it ripe food. Carl has to squint in the gust of wind to keep dirt from flying into his eyes. 

When Rick looks down at his child, he sees the wear that hands on work can do to a kid. He’s bored, but determined to pull his weight and probably prides in the fact that he’s providing real food to the once starving group. But no matter the pride he feels in his child for wanting to contribute, he’s still a kid. 

“Carl, you can go for today. You’re finished.”

He looks up at his dad --careful to mind the breeze, with a cautious grin across his features. “You sure?”

“Yeah. You’ve done enough. We’ll finish the rest tomorrow.” 

Carl stands and throws the zucchini in hand into the basket collecting their assortment containing carrots, potatoes and cucumbers. “K, see you inside then.” 

“Take those with you,” Rick motions to the basket, “Carol can use them for dinner tonight.” Carl picks up the basket and with it held in the crook of his arm he takes off for the prison. 

In truth, the storm wouldn’t be long from now and there’d be little they could do in the garden during it. Delicate air flows from under his shirt and cools his glistening back. The moment feels serene and somehow very peaceful despite the thoughts which won’t subside, reminding him of the struggles Daryl had once faced. Rick allows himself to get lost in the memory of everything Daryl had said about the rapes, and how his scars had never once been what Rick always assumed. It felt as if he had met a new side of Daryl. When a shadow falls over a tomato plant Rick can’t help but startle. 

Daryl looks down at Rick with narrowed blue eyes. In his hand is a dead rabbit where a wound tells its death was quick -humane, straight through the neck. Daryl never misses. “When I firs’ met you, I know you thought lots of things ‘bout me. Redneck. Loud mouth. Fuckin’ problem. Never thought you’d think I was stupid.”

Rick is thrown by the anger in Daryl’s voice. When they’d parted company that morning things had been fine between them; at least Rick had thought so, neither of them could be described as a ‘morning person’ at best of times, and both were a bit hung over. Considering their aches and pains from sleeping rough in the tower and the splitting headaches from the alcohol they shared, he had thought they’d both been appropriately surly and silent. “What do you mean?” 

“And maybe you're right. I saw what you were doin' last night and let it happen anyway. I knew the whiskey was to soften me up. To get me to tell you. You manipulated me,” he forcefully spits through bared teeth.

“Daryl, I -“

“You know, Rick? It don’ matter. Jus’ don’ fuckin’ do it again.”

Rick stands from the patch, moist ground still clinging to his knees, and reaches forward to grab the man’s elbow, but Daryl brushes off the attempt and walks away without a further word. He can’t recall a time since quarry outside of Atlanta, that Daryl’s anger had been directed towards him. But this time it feels different, like there was meaning behind the anger rather than just redneck temper. 

His first urge is to chase after Daryl and hash things out between them, but Rick knows his friend well enough by now to fight that impulse. When angered, Daryl reacts to any of them like a caged animal that survived a past of neglect and abuse - cornering him now would only make things worse. Despite the dread he feels in the pit of his stomach he stands with his heels planted in the damp soil and watches Daryl retreat back into the prison just as the storm begins to send its rain from above.

*

They all take turns passing Judith around later that night. The storm vibrates off the wall when thunder strikes above, and harsh winds create a whistle so eerie and both impressive all at once. Judith fusses when lightning strikes and the windows light up briefly -even her little brain already figured out what comes next. When the loud sound strikes the building Beth pulls the struggling infant in closer in attempt to smother her fears. 

They sit around the table finishing the last of the stew Carol had prepared from the vegetables Carl brought in. Even Daryl’s rabbit had been prepared in time to add to the mix. It was one of the better meals they had in a while, which usually consisted of scraps thrown together, dregs of processed junk and non-perishables that people had left behind in their haste to evacuate. The women did their best to mix what was available into something edible, if not tasty, to feed the entire group. 

“I think she’s getting used to it,” Beth’s soft voice says grabbing everyone's attention from their food. Everyone’s but Daryl’s, who had been avoiding the group since the morning. If it weren’t for all the tasks people knew needed to get done, they might question his whereabouts.

“Yeah, she’s doin’ better,” Rick agrees when he looks up from his bowl, but his thoughts are elsewhere. Daryl’s chastising words from when they last spoke still resonate in his mind; their sting steals his focus from his daughter.

He’d been so full of anger. Hatred. Rick had never imagined Daryl would react in such a way. He really hadn’t intended to upset him at all. His only intentions from the night before was to have Daryl be honest to him on how he had got the scars. It seemed only fair that after they had gone through so much together that Daryl should open up to him about his past. 

He knows now that he shouldn’t have pressed, especially when Daryl’s eyes had filled with tears, though he suddenly collected himself -refusing to break down in front of Rick. Rick should have known it then, known it was too much for them to deal with. 

He’d never meant to manipulate him and intentionally ignore his wishes. He wants to place comforting hands on him now and reassure him that manipulation hadn’t been his motive. He’d thought that when he offered the alcohol he had been helping Daryl open up. A burden shared is a burden eased. 

Daryl had been able to forget his past. He had spent years avoiding thoughts that would lead to memories of his abuse. He’d found a way to blind himself to the scars by carefully avoiding them himself, and shielding them from the curious eyes of others. Daryl had found his own way to cope with the wounds; he’d adapted by carefully avoiding the marks they left behind. Rick recalled the abuse victims he’d encountered while on patrol. Many of them had done the same, and he and his partner had been baffled by their denial until a social worker had identified the coping mechanism for what it was. Some victims survived by concealing their past even from themselves. 

Daryl had managed this far, until Rick insisted on picking away at the scab built over years that Daryl had constructed just to survive the brutal abuse. But now it was broken open and Rick didn’t know if he could stop concentrating on the disturbing wound. 

 

*

Since rotten corpses began roaming the earth, even the most peaceful of his dreams would be better described as nightmares. Following their alcohol fueled discussion, Rick’s dreams are worse than ever, filled with gut wrenching images of Daryl cowering in fear and pain in the shadow of his attacker. Rick’s sleep is restless, as night after night he’s unable to protect Daryl, and he wakes with an overwhelming sense of helplessness, guilt, and devastation. 

Even as he tries to wake himself, knowing it’s only a dream, he envisions Daryl beneath the man with a firm fist wrapped around his throat. Though the battle is already lost, Daryl’s trapped body thrashes beneath the man; survival instinct still drives him to fight the inevitable even as he weakens further. When Daryl’s struggles cease Rick wants to scream in his sleep a blade comes into view again and all he can see is blood. 

These images haunt Rick day and night since Daryl admitted his dark past. He can’t look at Daryl without seeing the scars and imagining their painful genesis. He can’t help but be furious over the incidents which happened long before he knew Daryl, long before he was in any position to help him. They’d occurred when Daryl was a scrawny youth, naive, and less able to defend himself - he’d been barely more than a boy. He should have had someone to look out for him. Someone should have stood up for him. The impotent rage festering within him causes him to lash out and snap at others in the group, especially when Daryl is near. 

It’s been three days since Daryl confronted Rick in the prison yard. They had a lot to discuss but, even when Daryl was no longer avoiding him, the opportunity for a private moment continued to evade them; timing was always an issue and their responsibilities in taking care of the group would always take priority. The few days difference has made everything less on edge, and it’s as if Daryl has forgiven Rick and almost feels guilty for lashing out at him. 

In the main area, their group sits huddled around the metal table each passing Judith around to keep the infant entertained. Rick sits on the end and even though his daughter holds most of his attention, he can’t help but see the way Daryl tries to make eye-contact. Rick very well knows the expression he reads is telling him he longs for physical contact. 

Not even sexual contact, but the ‘I miss you’ kind. 

Later in the night, it doesn’t surprise Rick when Daryl finds his way into Rick’s cell, when all other candles have gone out around the prison. In the dark of the night he pulls the curtain back exposing the moonlight until the curtain falls back into place. For a minute Daryl stands in the middle of the cell, waiting for Rick to invite him in.

“Hey,” Rick breathes as if he had just noticed him. 

“Hey yerself.” In the dark the sound of his clothes being dispersed on the floor can be heard.

He slips into Rick’s warm bed and finds the curve of their bodies which fit in perfect unity. Rick welcomes him into his arms, and without thinking on it his hands trace up Daryl’s arms and to his shoulders, where from there he feels the back of his shoulder blade. For the first time Daryl doesn’t flinch away from his touch when his hand slides close to those scars. 

Now that his secret is unburdened, the proximity Rick’s hands to his scars no longer plagues Daryl’s mind. It’s easy now to allow Rick to touch him without fearing the scars will become the focus. It’s as if now that their origins have been shared, Daryl can finally relax with Rick touching them without the worry of being made to retell and thereby relive their story.

Rick feels Daryl rest against his touch even as his hand brushes directly over one of the scars which surely would have caused the other man to flinch days before. Rick feels guilty that for the first time this doesn’t bother Daryl, it bothers him instead. Even though Daryl thinks his scars are now forgotten, they are now the only focus on Rick’s mind. 

He can’t help it, and the things he’s imagining now are almost as bad as his earlier nightmares. His fingertips touch one of the scars he recalls being described the other night, and images come rushing into his mind and he wants them to go away now, more than ever. 

_He pictures a man, many years ago, holding Daryl the same way he is holding him now, but with blood covering his hands and a knife thrown to the floor. In his vision, Daryl cringes in pain but is never given the chance to fight back because of the brute strength in the hands of his attacker._

Instead of caressing his back like he has longed to do for months, Rick pulls his trembling hand away from the spot which hasn’t always been safe to touch, and wraps his arms around Daryl to hold him closer. 

Even if he could find the words to say _‘I’m sorry that happened to you’_ or _‘I wish I could’ve stopped it then’_ , they’d be unwelcome. He’d promised he’d never bring it up again, and Daryl will hold him to his promise. 

But he still owes him that apology, even if Daryl doesn’t want to hear it. He wonders if those having trouble sleeping tonight would be able to hear his voice with the prison is so quiet. Voices easily echo off of walls, so he has to be cautious to not speak too loudly. Just above a whisper and yet stern, he says, “Look, I know what I did-“

“I said to forget it. I meant that.” Daryl begins to pull away but rests back into Rick. Perhaps he figures it’s too cold to crawl out of their warm embrace, or he’s unwilling to give up the comfort of Rick’s arms just yet and waits to see if whether or not his bedmate will let the subject drop. 

“You ain’t ever one for talking much.” He kisses Daryl’s neck, and this time lets it go. 

Silence once again fills the cell where both men lay pressed against each other’s bodies to keep warm. It does little though to quiet the thoughts which fill Rick’s mind. He lays awake in the dark thinking about the scars he had seen not long ago. 

Talking wouldn’t help Daryl because he had found his own way to cope; with time he had banished his past from his thoughts. The wounds, though not his own, were still raw for Rick. To him the trauma was all too fresh, and he couldn’t stop thinking about the rape every time he laid eyes on Daryl.

It consumed his thoughts. Images kept swarming him at the least expected times. Thinking of Carl, he’d thought of Daryl at the same age –awkward and defiant, but just wanting to be accepted. He thought of his son being in hands of a man like the one who raised his lover, and was instantly repulsed. He fights the urge to be violently sick, and silently wrestles with the nausea brought up by the thoughts - their tentative truce couldn’t survive if Daryl were to wake in Rick’s arms to find the former-sheriff retching. Rick has to ward away the images and focus instead on the breaths of the man next to him. Watching the steady rise and fall of Daryl’s chest somehow relaxes him. 

He regrets how pushing Daryl to share has strained their relationship, and he regrets he caused his partner such turmoil by opening old wounds, but most of all he regrets the burden of his new knowledge. He’d been a fool to press on when Daryl was so hesitant to share. A few short days ago, his thoughts revolved around their survival and an uncertain future, and not Daryl’s brutal past. He wishes he could return to the time days ago when he would look at and only see their future, and not Daryl’s past. 

Before he could control himself, he’d begun to pull away from the man whom he had persistently worked to open up. As perceptive as Daryl is, Rick doubts the other man had missed it when Rick was more careful than usual to touch him, even hesitant to do so, or how he’d avoided eye contact earlier in the evening. Even asleep beside Rick, Daryl feels Rick’s hands turn cold in the night, the usual warmth absent from his lover’s embrace. 

 

*

The next morning, when the dawn is still crisp in the air, Daryl and some of the group members ready themselves, outside the gates, to go on a run. His motorcycle roars to life and the team assembles behind him in the only car not short on gas, ready to exit the prison in unison. Daryl waits for Carol to open the last gate leading outside. While she’s unlatching the chain, Daryl turns his head and looks to find Rick, who doesn’t acknowledge his departure as he studiously tends to the field. It’s unusual for Rick to not be standing beside Daryl, demanding he promise not to take any unnecessary risks and that he’ll return quickly and safely. Daryl turns back when he is sure Rick is deliberately ignoring him; he squares his shoulders and sets his jaw. As soon as Carol has the chainlink fence open, he revs his engine and peels out, trusting that the others will not fall too far behind him. Without a second glance over his shoulder, he, Maggie, Bob and Glenn leave with the small group for several days. 

 

*

In the beginning, neither of them had been comfortable talking about it. There’d been raw attraction, base physical needs to satisfy and camaraderie between them, and it had been more than enough. Neither of them wanted to over think it, or risk the simpatico nature of their involvement by trying to define it. 

They’d grown closer, and come to rely on one another for more than just release and comfort, but no label would fit. The closest labels seemed crass and would only cheapen what they shared. What was meant to be a one night stand, became friends with benefits, quickly turned into an addiction and somewhere along the line it’d evolved into something deep and meaningful for both of them. 

Rick tells himself this now as he watches through the chainlink fence as a lone walker staggers towards him. Dressed in a tattered white coat and slacks, it bumps weakly but persistently against the fence in effort to get to him. It snarls, exposing its rotten mouth pressed up against the fence. Its scent is atrocious, and Rick knows he should kill it right now while his knife is clutched securely in this hand, but he hesitates. The walker, who was once a man, was apparently also a doctor according to the name tag still clipped to a torn pocket. He sometimes wonders about the stories of the walkers they encounter - who they were, if they are missed by survivors, or how they met their end. It’s a habit he had let go of since before finding the prison, but for whatever reason he finds himself indulging in it once again. He tries to put the pieces together of how this person came to walk with the living dead. Possibly he had worked in a hospital full of the dying until the last moment right before the hospital became overrun followed closely by the rest of the world. The bite drenched in blood on the side of his ribs says he hadn’t been expecting it when it happened. 

It had been days since Daryl left to go on a run. Rick misses him -the way they kept each other company at times and the way they were all eachother needed to stay warm late at night. He can’t stop thinking about how he had just let the man go without a goodbye. That alone bothers him constantly. None of them ever know when they’d return or if they’d return. Days were spent in tense silence as the remaining group wondered or worried about how their family or close friends fared outside the safety of these walls. 

Rick often finds himself looking for distractions in hopes of consoling his thoughts from constantly visualizing what Daryl had gone through. When his work is finished for the day, instead of turning in as the light of day fades, he wanders through the yard, and finds himself furthest from the cell blocks and well beyond the voices of his group. The fence serves as his focus as he checks its stability, walking the length of its perimeter to see if their barrier is compromised in any way. It’s a bizarre kind of relief when the gurgles of walkers, who have strayed from the woods and found themselves at the boundary between the prison and the forest, distract him from hearing a young Daryl’s screams echoing in his imagination. He stops when he can go no further and finds his attention locked onto the walker on the other side.

The others would think he was losing it – standing in one spot just staring at the face of this walker, doing its best to rip his flesh to shreds but stymied by a simple fence. Even he questions his own sanity as his arm relaxes and he lowers the blade to rest by his thigh while he watches the rabid corpse tearing its skin against the chain link barrier. 

“I just don’t know what to do.” He suddenly admits aloud, and feels relief. It’s as if all the weight on his chest had been aching for for release, but betraying Daryl’s confidence to talk about this with another living person came with the possible consequence of it getting back to him. How could he be sure that whomever he confided in wouldn’t treat Daryl differently after they knew, when he hadn’t been able to do so himself? But above all, it’d be a betrayal. 

With his free hand pressed to the bridge of his nose he chants, “I love him. I love him. I love him. But these things he said, I can’t get them out of my mind. I just never knew someone could experience so much hurt, and there’s not a damn thing that changes for him when he tells me. He just goes on. But I don’t. I want-… I want so much to fix those wounds he carries with him in secret, but I can’t because he doesn’t want to talk about it. And I respect that but I just can’t tell him the way I think, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from confronting him on it. The scars… they carry so much hurt. So much blood, and pain, and I swear to you I’d kill the bastard who did it. It’s all I see now… in my dreams, when I’m awake. It’s become too much for me to hold onto without talking about it and it kills me to distance myself from him. But it’s all I can do to not talk about it-”

“Shit, you’re not seeing shrinks now are ya? I coulda’ told you they ain’ nothin’ but a fuckin’ rip off. Damn gin is all ya’ need.” 

Rick whips around to face the man who’d snuck up behind him. His relief to see Daryl is tempered by chagrin at the thought, ‘had he been a walker I’d be dead,’ but Daryl isn’t death. He’s the most life Rick has felt in months, and even looking at him here and now –his heart beats in his chest a little faster and he wants to close the distance between them. 

It’s not even the fact that he had been talking to a walker that causes the silence between them - where Daryl simply looks at him, it’s that he had just admitted the ordeal with Daryl bothered him. 

“Didn’ think it would bother you like this.” He shifts his hand and for the first time Rick notices the half empty bottle in his hand. He wonders if Daryl drank it, or if he’d found it that way during the run. He’s covered in dirt and his face carries the wear and tear that usually results from runs. 

His eyebrow is cut and Rick can see where he’d wiped at it, leaving smeared blood to dry across his forehead. Daryl is strong –stronger than he ever knew in fact. It’s Daryl’s curious expression that catches his eye.

“Daryl, I didn’t know it would. It’s because I-“

“I didn’ want you to look at me any different. Like pathetic.”

“Nah, I’d never see you that way,” Rick breathes. 

Daryl nods though his face is grimaced in a frown. He shifts the weight of the gin in his hand and focuses on the alcohol sloshing around in the bottle, using it as a distraction. “I jus’ thought we could drink this together. Not ‘cause you want me to tell you somethin’, but for the hell of it.” Daryl starts to walk towards him, but instead of stopping in front of Rick, he reaches behind himself and pulls out an arrow, which he jabs it into the skull of the walker still trying to rip through the fence. “There. Now you ain’ got a choice but to talk to me.” 

“It’s not what it looks like-”

“The hell it ain!” Daryl pulls his arm back to free the arrow and then wipes the walker blood off on his ripped pant leg. 

There’s an awkward silence between them where neither can meet each others eyes. Rick finally asks, “How did everything go?”

“Like shit. Hell of a close call once. Almost lost the supplies we actually got when Maggie tripped, but we got out. That’s all that matters.”

“Did you guys get everything on the list?”

“Most of it. Still gonna have to take another run to get more lighter fluid.”

“It can wait. I’m glad you got out ok.”

Daryl nods, and their eyes finally lock. Dusk begins to set behind the treeline.

“You shoula’ told me.” His voice is soft and has no trace of accusation. 

“Daryl, you made it clear you didn’t want to speak about it again.” He raises his hand and aims at at his own chest then asks, “How was I supposed to talk to you about it?” 

Daryl looks to the ground and slowly nods his head in agreement. “I had been thinking a lot on the run. About that. I was still damned pissed when I left. Guess I never really gave you the chance to talk ‘bout it.” 

“No. You didn’t.” 

He kicks his foot into the dirt and then drops to the earth with his knees folded to his chest. He’s exhausted, and the weight of the run is still on his mind. But he is determined to fix this, and he knows his partner deserves to be heard out. Rick sits beside him and they both look out to the way the sun settles behind gaps in trees. 

Rick sighs when the silence is too long, then says, “I worry about you constantly when you go on runs. I worry about the others too, but I worry for you the most. Having you gone and me not saying goodbye? I regretted it every night. I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye.” Daryl catches his eye and relaxes his face -allowing Rick to explain without judgment. “I don’t want to avoid you any longer. We need to resolve this.” 

Daryl swallows and carefully considers his words. “I never want to talk about it because when I do, it gives me a feeling that I can’t control. I start seeing it as if it were real, and it takes a helluva’ lot to pull myself from it. So I don’ let myself think on it, and I don’ want to talk ‘bout it.” He scrapes his fingernail along the arrow. “This ain’t your deal. You don’ need to stress on it.” 

“How can you say that so easy? Like this isn’t on me?” He exhales, and after a moment continues, “I see what happened to you when you’re around, or when I think about your scars. I care about you on another level, and to know those things made you who you are? I can’t understand the pain you went through.” 

“It ain’ that bad.” His voice is rough and low. Daryl leans back onto his elbows. 

“It doesn’t at least bother you?”

“Like I said, I don’ think on it. If I do then I ‘spose it does.” He sighs. “What happened was fucked up. But they don’ make me who I am. You should think the same.”

Rick sighs. There isn’t much left to say without crossing into the place that Daryl keeps far from his thoughts, and Rick is careful to respect those boundaries now that he has tested where that can lead them. He doesn’t want to open up that side of Daryl again. He wants to tell him he won’t anymore, but he can’t promise he’ll always keep quiet about it. But Rick finally understands the impact of what happened and is willing to meet on Daryl’s terms. There is no middle grounds for this. “I can do that.” He takes a moment to rub tired eyes with a dirt covered hand. “I am sorry for the way I have been recently. It’s not your fault, or the fault of your past.” 

It takes a moment for the words Rick said to really sink in, but Daryl eventually nods. He doesn’t need to say “It’s ok” because Rick gets it, and he’s too tired from the run anyways. The sun has almost set and they both know their time is limited before they have to head inside.

“We’re going to work through this. There isn’t going to be no more secrets.”

“I can do that, but I ain’ gonna’ talk about it no more. When you start thinkin’ ‘bout them thoughts, jus’ come find me instead and don’ think too hard on em’. Trust me, they ain’t worth yer time.”

“I can do that. And I’m going to stop asking you to. I get it. I really do.”

~The End~


End file.
